Happy New Year
by kcat1971
Summary: [Transitions story # 17] (December 31, 2008) Summary: Sometimes it's ballgowns and champagne. And sometimes it's not.


Josh and I are chilling out in front of the TV. Neither of us is paying a lot of attention to it. I'm leaning against him, my eyes closed, while he absently rubs his hand up and down my arm.

The quiet background noise is broken by the sound of Lulu's hacking cough, which has me jumping up and rushing to her room. By the time I get there, she's whimpering between the barks. As I push open the door, I see that she's sitting up in her crib, her little hand on one ear, while tears stream down her face and her little body convulses as she tries to draw in a full breath, only to be struck again by a coughing fit.

"Oh, my poor baby!" I scoop her up and sit down in the rocker, maneuvering the humidifier with my foot so that the steam is shooting straight at us. But Lulu continues to cough and whimper. I don't think this is helping.

Standing up, I switch Lulu to my shoulder so that I can rub her back as we walk towards the bathroom. Once we're there, I close the door with my foot, and turn the shower on full blast, cranking it up as hot as possible. Soon steam starts to fill the room.

There's not much room to move, so eventually, I sit down on the toilet and rock Lulu back and forth as I sing softly to her. My voice isn't as good as Josh's, but Lulu doesn't seem to mind. Her eyes drift closed. I'm relieved that the coughing fits seem to be getting at least a little further apart.

Her cheeks are pretty rosey, and her little hand is still clutching her ear. Damn. I should have taken her temperature before we started sitting in this hot bathroom. If I tried to take it now it probably wouldn't be accurate. She's still got another hour before I can give her anymore medicine anyway, not that it seems to be doing all that much good.

I stand up carefully, so that I don't wake her and shut off the water. I don't want to use all the hot water. I don't know how long it will be before we need to do this again. It could be several times before the night's over.

I continue to stand in the bathroom, swaying her gently, until the steam is gone. Then, as I open the door, I hear Josh's deep cough from the living room. Damn it. Even though he kept denying it, I knew he was getting sick too.

After I lay Lulu back in her crib, I grab the humidifier and refill it. It doesn't take long until it's spraying steam towards her again. I hope this can hold her until the next dose of medicine.

Josh continues coughing, so I head into our bathroom for some Nyquil before going back out to the living room. There I find him sprawled on the couch, looking feverish and glassy-eye. I pour him a double shot and hold it up.

"Here, take this."

"Donna," he whines, "I hate Nyquil. That stuff is horrible."

Good grief. The man drinks scotch straight up. You'd think he could handle a little cold medicine.

"I don't care. The baby is sick. You're sick. And we probably won't be able to get into the doctor's office for two days. I'd like to try to avoid having to take either of you to the ER. So you'll take what I've got to give you. Then you're going to put on pajamas, sit in the steamy bathroom for 10 minutes then go to bed."

"But Donna . . . "

"No buts. Just do it."

"But . . . ."

"JOSHUA!" I hiss his name through clenched teeth. I want to scream, but I do not want to wake up the baby. I just need Josh to cooperate. "Take the damn medicine or I'm going to rub Vick's on your chest before you go to bed!"

He wisely keeps his mouth shut, but throws his arm towards the television in weak exasperation, just as the ball drops and 2009 lights up on the screen.

"Happy New Year." He says quietly.

Oh.

I look back at his face. He looks miserable. But he flashes me a half smile.

"It's not champagne, but, bottoms up." I smirk as I hand him the cough suppressant, placing a kiss on his cheek. I love him but I don't want his germy mouth anywhere near mine.

He downs it and grimaces, then shuffles off towards our room.

I quickly tidy up the disaster area left in his wake, dumping the crumpled up tissues into the garbage can, and grabbing the empty ginger ale bottles. Then wiping the coffee table down with a disinfectant wipe.

I smile as I hear the shower start up. Thank god, he's following instructions. I make a quick detour into Lulu's bathroom and grab the lysol spray, which I spray heavily throughout the house. Maybe it'll help keep the germs at bay until I can do a thorough cleaning.

The shower shuts off, and I head back into our bedroom and flop down in the chair for a minute. I'm really tired, but it's not really worth going to bed. Lulu will probably wake up again in less than an hour, as her medicine wears off. Maybe if I get lucky I can get some sleep after I give her the next dose.

Still, I close my eyes for a moment. Exhausted. Taking care of these two is draining, but I love them beyond measure. I wouldn't give this up, even on days like this.

A few minutes later, my eyes pop back open as I hear the bathroom door squeak. Josh drags himself over to the bed. He's wearing his Christmas pajamas but he's certainly not looking very jolly. He crawls into bed without another word. I think this might be the first time since our wedding that he's gone to bed before I have.

I'm not even sure he noticed I was sitting in the room. He must be _really_ sick.

I heave myself out of the chair and walk around to his side of the bed, then lean down and run my hand over his curls. Finally, I plant a kiss on his burning forehead. I hope the medicine knocks him out. He needs the rest.

He doesn't open his eyes, but his mouth turns up in the slightest. God, I love him so much.

"Good night, Josh. Happy New Year."


End file.
